The 90 Day Rule (11 page)

Jack cradled me on his lap. Somehow we’d made it to the couch with me snugged against his massive chest, the waterworks turned up to full volume.

Wailing, “And I’m going crazy, saying stuff when I think it’s all just in my head. You must think I’m a lunatic.”

“Maybe. But you’re my kind of lunatic. And if it makes you feel any better, Chazz talked to me earlier.”

“C-C-Chazz?”

“Yeah, he’s a good kid and he’s not about to let anyone hurt either you or Etty. Apparently he kinda guessed my feelings for you.”

“Feelings?”

Brushing the kinky red curls out of the way, Jack nuzzled my neck and hummed something soothing into my throat.

Emotions warred between wanting particulars on that feelings idea and needing to know what he thought about my situation. The last thing I wanted was a figurative pity fuck. Under other circumstances I’d have been okay with it. Call it a zipless fuck ala Erica Jong and my libertarian feminist awakening would have blossomed.

Unfortunately, the old conservative, noncreative me had a comfort zone somewhat to the right of a fifties sitcoms’ wife and mother. Making a list was right up my alley. Give me things to do in an a, b, c fashion and Bob’s my uncle.

It made me rock solid in a zone defense, shit on man-to-man.

I needed to change that.

Jack said, “You know, for once I’m not real sure what you’re thinking.” That seemed to worry him.

Good. I was tired of being predictable. Tired of being a doorstop.

Sliding off his lap, I stood in front of him, declaring, “I want to use the hot tub,” and followed up with sweeping the loose tee-shirt off in one swift movement. The gym shorts followed, two bits of nylon puddling at my feet.

Leaving him floundering, guppy style, sucking air for all he was worth, I stalked to the deck and slid into silky darkness.

Jack had installed ground level lanterns around the perimeter of the deck, the kind with photovoltaic cells and automatic activation as dusk fell. The lumens were softly decorative, designed to comfort and sooth, wrapping the space in a sense of security and peace.

Cicadas and insects buzzed in the stillness, accompanied by a soft hissing from the water jets periodically kicking on and off.

I didn’t hear him approach, so captivated by the sounds of the night and the beating of my heart that there was no way to divert my attention to anything other than this microcosm of time and space.

Jack carefully shoved the lid to the edge of the hot tub and propped it against the railing. Watching him move, my eyes watered with hunger as they stared at muscles rippling when he lifted and settled the lid, his back strong, thighs thick as tree trunks yet still lean, not fleshy. An anomaly.

There was nothing soft about his huge frame despite him being in his forties. He was fleshed out, solid, not thin skin stretched over ropey abs like a hard body mannequin. Dark hair peppered his chest, trailing past his belly to nest thickly at his groin. He gave no indication he might be self-conscious of his erection, hard muscled and proudly declaring his intentions.

He whispered, his mouth close to my ear, “I’ll ask again. What do you want to do first?”

Blushing, I had all manner of thoughts, some naughty, some downright sinful, all of them well outside of my realm of experience. So far out I was in clueless, brainless, dumber than shit territory.

I don’t know…

“Well, I have some ideas…” With that he lifted me up and then lowered me into the heated water. Climbing in after me, he settled onto the opposite bench, his feet positioned on either side of my hips, bracing himself. With a quick press of a button he set the jets on high.

Then he stared into my eyes, waiting.

The fizz and the pulsating beats of superheated foam and water wreaked havoc with my senses. Instead of butterflies my belly sported that hollow, empty feeling you sometimes get when
inevitable
crosses paths with
not a good idea
.

I mouthed
eighty-two
, subtracted half a bondage ring and still came up with a burdensome forty-one days.

Except … now I faced no days at all. If I accepted Robert’s conditions I was back in the no fly zone, forever relegated to chattel status, along with my overwrought commitment to fulfilling my vows, keeping to my end of the contract. Before God and witnesses.

And even if I decided to fight, however that might play out, the struggle would most likely result in a long drawn-out battle with ruinous consequences for Loretta, never mind the backwash for me. Did the bondage, the contract, still count at that point?

The list of reasons
why not
far outweighed everything. It always had. That’s why I was so tangled in my head. I wanted something, someone, to say
you can do this, Jes, you can take control and have what you want for once
.

That wasn’t right either. Why should anyone bear that burden? It was my decision, mine alone. I needed to own my feelings, my desires, my ambitions.

“Jes.” His voice was softly modulated, very deep, the lust and longing echoing as down a canyon. “Tell me what you want.”

I’d rather have swallowed my tongue than say the words, my face flushing scarlet at the images playing out in my head. Keeping my eyes lowered, I hunched my shoulders, preparing to bolt.

Jack stood and pulled me up. Drawing me close, his hands pressed my hips into the long hardness of his manhood.

I wanted to say the word. Out loud. Fearlessly.

Cock.

I want your cock inside me.

“Oh, you’ll have that. Never fear, my love.” Velvet laughter, teasing, a knowing deviltry in his voice colored the next words. “But I think that’s not all you want.”

Stuttering, I managed to choke out, “N-n-no, no it’s not.”

“Good, because I plan to break a lot of rules tonight.”

I just need to break the one…

“Sweetheart, for you, one will never be enough…”

Chapter Nine: Company Interruptus

“Oh Jesus, sweetheart, did I hurt you?”

An ocean of passion engulfed me, his eyes unfocused, glazed. I couldn’t bear to look away. Couldn’t stand the thought of him pulling away.

“Don’t, don’t sto—” Me. Moaning. Begging.

Melting. 

Puddling.

Boneless.

Muscles, belly tightening. Such ache. Spine twisting, swiveling, hips bucking under the assault of his sinful moist mouth. Rough hands kneading my thighs. So harsh, demanding. Wanting.

Me. He wants me.

Rye. Slap.

Pastrami. Slap.

“I’ll have what she’s having…”

Yes yes yes yes!

Oh my dear sweet…

“Ssh, it’s all right. I’m here.”

Wrapping me in his arms, he crooned soft murmurs through a gelatinous fog, the sensations dissipating, bleeding out until my limbs felt like leaden feathers.

If I died right then, in that pool of sweat soaked sheets, buried under the hard planes of the devil himself, it would be with a smile and a
fuck you Robert
.

Jack, my new lover, Ryan chuckled low in his throat. “Do you always re-enact that scene when you come?”

Oh, I so did not say that out loud. Did I?

He was nibbling at my mouth again, my taste, his taste intermingling. Clever tongue probing, thumb in a lazy holding pattern over a nipple, his knee nudged my thighs wider and brushed against the swollen distended flesh. A reminder and a promise.

He wasn’t done with me, not by a long shot.

I didn’t mean to say it. Should have been too embarrassed to admit it. But I wanted him to understand.

I don’t know why it mattered, but it did.

Throat constricting, I gulped out, “That was my first time…” he hummed an ‘umm’ but stopped and stared when I continued, “…for everything.”

A heartbeat, two, then he said, so softly I barely heard him, “Good.”

Good.

He said ‘good’.

Choirs sang, joy filled me with hope.

Bells chimed, muffled, insistent. Ringing … ringing…

I tensed.

Jack said, “Ignore it.”

A feeling of dread pierced my chest, a premonition so strong there was no way I could ignore it, no matter how much I wanted to.

“Please, Jack.”

I rolled toward the edge of the bed but he got there ahead of me, reached down and pulled my duffle bag onto the rumpled covers. The cell was in a small side pocket, on its last ring.

All I needed to do was wait, let it go to voice mail. I flipped it open and stared at the caller ID.

“Loretta?”

Jack braced to leave, to give me space and privacy. Respect.

I didn’t want any of that. I wanted him, I needed to be in the comfort of his strong arms. I held the phone out, the tinny voice echoing between our bodies. My own tears were inconsequential. What mattered were the strangled sobs in the background, a sound so soft and muted it drowned out all others.

Jack bent his head, listening, never taking his eyes off me.

When I clicked it shut, I lay back on the pillow, willing time backwards.

Brushing my hair off my sweaty brow he said, “I’ll take you back.” He stepped away and I saw, for the first time, more than concern, more than simple compassion. His face was hard-edged, dangerous. Possessive.

Bolting for the bathroom I made quick work of dressing and setting myself to order. Fortunately the tight braids gave me a false sense of tidiness, an illusion of kemptness, if there was such a word.

It was good we hadn’t gotten any further. This had to be the end of it. I couldn’t lead him on any longer. It wasn’t fair to him.

You don’t deserve him. You don’t … you don’t … you…

I exited in a rush, eyes on the floor, mortified that I’d involved this generous man in something so sordid, and slammed into a solid wall of flesh.

Stuttering apologies, I angled around him but he took my arms in a vice grip and nailed me in place.

“Jes.”

I ignored him, avoiding his eyes.

“Jes. Damn it to hell.” He shook me like a rag doll. “Look at me. Look. At. Me.”

So I did, through a watery veil.

“Two things I want to make clear.”

Robert had said almost the same thing, a mere ten minutes ago. Men liked it when it was clear and uncomplicated. But they also liked rules, always more rules. All I knew for certain was … I could live with rules but clarity was over-rated.

Jack tilted my chin up. When he let go of my arm, it tingled from where he’d gripped it tight enough to leave a bruise.

“First off, this isn’t over. You and me. We have unfinished business here. So get that shit out of your head right now.” Something low and guttural escaped my mouth. Assent, dissent, neither of us would ever know for sure. “And the second thing is … I’m coming in there with you.”

Gasping, “Jack, no, you can’t,” I tried to pull free.

“It’s not up for discussion.”

He finally let me go, grabbed the duffle and stalked to the door with me dragging behind. I took a moment to look at the small room, and at the sliding glass door leading to the deck and the outdoor space created with love and pride.

It felt like home.

And I would never see it again.

Jack muscled me into the truck and strapped me in. Wordlessly he climbed into the driver side and cranked the engine over. We sat there, on the narrow gravel driveway in front of a modest ranch house in the middle of the woods, diesel fumes perfuming the late night, wearing despair and aggression like second skins.

“How many days, Jes?”

“What?”

“I said … how many days?”

With a small voice, I replied, “Eighty now?”

“That’s right. Eighty. And tomorrow will be seventy-nine and the next day?”

“Seventy-eight,” I whispered. “But…”

“No buts, Jessamine Cavanagh. Now, count them off, one day at a time.”

So I did. While he hummed backup.

****

My legs felt like jelly climbing the stairs to Etty and Chazz’s apartment. Their refuge, not mine, never mine.

At the metal door leading into the third floor hall, Jack paused and blocked my way. The rush of emotions on his face confused me. Frightened me. Until he spoke.

“None of this is going to sound right. And you may not be ready to hear it…” He brushed at his scalp, kneading it with his palm, the first time I’d seen him truly nervous. Dropping his voice an octave, he growled, “I will give you all the time you need. But know this. I won’t wait forever. That’s not how I’m wired.”